


i live beyond the runway

by carameldumpling



Category: Project Runway (US) RPF, Skins (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/193899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carameldumpling/pseuds/carameldumpling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When they say that Tim Gunn is all-knowing, he is truly all-knowing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ - 9 Dec 2009. Maxxie's not gay solely because of plot purposes.

**EPISODE 0: BEFORE THE RUNWAY**

Tim Gunn actually dreads Project Runway. At least during the audition process and the preliminary rounds. He cringes at the children who think they are ‘designer’ material, and the fake-nosed, spray-tanned, silicone-implanted girls that are confident they have a chance to become a Project Runaway model. 

While he’s extremely confident a fabulous designer will emerge – he’s seen some of them start off rough but then towards the end produce gorgeous pieces he’d never even dream of – it’s tough to motivate himself when he’s staring at a picture of what could be a cocktail dress inspired by Big Bird. 

“No,” he sighs, as Heidi chokes on her drink. “No, no and  _no_.”

Michael laughs next to him. “We should send that person a C&D.”

Tim rubs his temple. He’s not drunk enough to go through the remaining 1,537 entries.

  
“You fucking fuck!”

Tony ducks, avoiding the lamp thrown in his direction. Effy sure had one hell of a temper when she felt like expressing her woe to the world.

He peeks over the couch and sees an extremely pissed off little sister pacing the room, trying to find the next thing she can throw at him. Tony bets that she’s saving the mini television for last.

“I can’t believe!” Effy screams, throwing her hands in the air before turning to look at him, glaring.

“You fucking joined Project Runway as a designer so you can  _keep an eye on me_?”

Tony sighs. It’s really not his fault that big brother instincts usually take over rational thought. Effy was going to be miles away, and Tony doesn’t have contacts in New York to look out for her. And she was going to be a model, and Tony’s heard all the horror stories about models getting anorexia and bulimia and sleeping with photographers and even dying horrible deaths. Of course he was going along with her, it’s what big brothers do. 

Effy now looks deadly, like a komodo dragon waiting to pounce an injured goat. “You better not choose me as your fucking model, Tony, or I swear-”

“I won’t.” Of course Tony wouldn’t, although he was considering that five minutes ago. “You need your space, I know.”

Effy rolls her eyes. “If you know I need my space you wouldn’t join the damn competition in the first place!”

The telephone hits the wall behind him. Yeah, this is gonna take a while.

  
Sid never really had luck on his side, so he’s surprised when he actually got into Project Runway. His mom had held him to her bosom for 20 minutes as she sobbed with joy, and his dad had patted him on the back, eyes glistening.

He felt like he was in a soap opera.

Now he’s standing in his room in New York – New York! – unsure which bed to take. The one on the left, or the right? The left one means less sun, which is good for his sensitive skin, but it also means a bright pink comforter. 

He’s saved from making a decision when a guy barges in, probably half drunk at 4 in the afternoon, and dumps his bag on the left bed. So yeah, Sid has to take the right one.

“You lost?” a voice asks curiously, and he turns to see the man peering oddly at him. 

“I, uh,” he stammers. “No?”

The man blinks. “You sure?”

Sid scratches his beanie – it’s a reflex thing when he’s nervous. “Yeah man, why’d you ask?”

The man shrugs. “Cause you don’t really look very Project Runway.” He pauses. “You are here for Project Runway right?”

Sid thinks he should be offended, but he’s accepted his fate. He’s always termed the emo kid, the loser, the nerd, anything but the popular boy, the one that people look at. 

Before he can stammer out an answer, a blonde boy appears at the doorway, carrot sticks in hand, grinning. Sid thinks he’s gorgeous. “C’mon Chris, stop teasing.”

The man known as Chris flops on his bed. “Whatever man. I’m smoked.”

“You’re stoned,” The blonde boy drawls, laughing. He turns to Sid. “Hi, I’m Maxxie. Just reached here a day ago, from Austin, Texas.”

Sid’s heart breaks into five. There is no way a Texas boy as hot as Maxxie would even look at him twice. Heck, Maxxie probably had three prom dates, all of them female. “I’m Sid, from New Jersey.”

“Fucker, just needed to drive up a little,” Chris mumbles. 

Maxxie laughs. “Ignore him, man, he gets bitchy when he’s high. That’s Chris, by the way. From California.”

“Damn straight,” Chris retorts. “And before you ask, no, I didn’t go to school with Adam Lambert.”

Sid didn’t even think of Adam Lambert. “A-Alright.”

Maxxie throws himself onto the middle bed and his white t-shirt rises up a little, exposing a hip that Sid wants to lick so badly. “Well we’re gonna be roommates man! We’re gonna make clothes, and I hear the models are hot. It’s gonna be awesome.”

“Yeah,” Sid echoes, wondering why he always had no luck. “Awesome.

 **EPISODE 1: YOUR FABRIC, YOUR RULES**

It’s the first challenge, and Anwar really, really wants to win it. Yeah, Maxxie and Tony and Chris are pretty awesome people – he’s not so sure about Sid, that guy can get weird sometimes – but he’s here to win. He’s spent half his life stoned, and he’s actually tired of living a stoned life.

Chris had nearly eaten the weed when he said that. “Fuck no, man. That’s no way to live.”

“Fuck yes, man,” Anwar had sighed, taking a gulp of water. He’s sober in all aspects now, has been for three months. “There’s actually a point in time when you get tired of this.”

The ladies in the competition aren’t that bad looking, if he would say so himself. Michelle’s a pretty thing, all smiles and curly hair, but Anwar can see the cutthroat businesswoman in her, the professional that he admires already. Cassie’s in her own world half the time, he’s not really sure how she’s gonna finish up work when she’s twirling around babbling about tuna cans. And then there’s Jal, uptight Jal who eyes Chris like he’s rotten meat. But Anwar can bet that by the end of the competition, they’re gonna get together.

“Alright, designers,” Tim Gunn rubs his hands together, and Anwar still can’t believe he’s here sometimes. Tim Gunn! He owns Tim Gunn’s bedsheets, and the guy is here talking to him right now. 

“Here is your first assignment. See all that fabric behind me?”

Oh yeah, Anwar can see it, alright. Three tents, huge and overflowing with all kinds of fabric, and his spine itches to make a gown or a cocktail dress. 

“You have ten minutes to grab as much fabric as you can for your assignment. Ten minutes,” Tim looks over his glasses, as if convinced that one of them will cheat. 

“Go, go, go!”

Anwar dashes to the first tent, he’s seen the most gorgeous green chiffon and no one is going to steal that from him. He snags that, triumphant, and quickly eyes for something that could compliment…. Blue green silk! And he’s seeing his dress already, now if only he could get a little black Victorian lace.

He doesn’t get the black Victorian lace, sadly – Jal’s snatched that – but he’s got normal black lace, and he knows how to make do. 

“You have three days, to finish up your assignment. We’re going back to the workroom, you’re going to plan your design, and we will go and meet your models.”

  
The moment Maxxie lays eyes on her, he decides that’s the model he wants. Maybe he won’t get her for this round, but for the future rounds? That’s the model he wants.

And from the way she’s sneaking glances at him, he figures she wants to model for him too. It’s going to be the start of a beautiful relationship.

Tony growls, two people away, and Maxxie wonders what crawled up his ass and died.

“For the first assignment, we’re randomly assigning models. But from the next assignment onwards, you get to choose the model you want.”

Maxxie doesn’t get the model he wants, but his model’s pretty enough. Her name’s Olga, and with her cheekbones and shapely figure, she’ll just make the dress more beautiful.

“Hey,” he gives her his ‘aww shucks’ smile, the one that convinces parents to let him take their daughter out for a movie and dinner. Olga smiles back, relaxing slightly. “Okay, so I usually like second opinions, and I wanna know what you feel about this dress I’m gonna do”.”

He shows her his sketches, and working with Olga is pretty awesome. She gives constructive comments, adds a little bit of suggestions here and there, and when they’re done, Maxxie thinks this second sketch is more high-end fashion and less prom-dress.

He glances over to the model he wanted – she’s with Arjana, this African girl who is a real sweetheart – and she’s talking, moving her hands in the air to make a point. As if she knows he’s looking, she turns and looks at him, blue eyes not giving away any emotion.

Maxxie smiles, and the model hesitates before she smiles back, ducks her head and looks away.

  
“Jal,” Heidi says with such calmness it’s a miracle she’s not a wax statue. “Tell us about your look.”

“Well I’m going for a structured, sleek cut, but with a little bit of a fun side. Which is why I have the little pleats on the skirt, and the colour isn’t too drab.” 

Jal’s pretty glad that she got Anais for a model. The red hair really pulls of the white top and the light turquoise skirt, and Jal’s really satisfied with what she’s done. Helps too that Anais can walk the walk, shaking her booty like what Chris called ‘a Polaroid picture’.

Chris is the oddest person Jal has ever met, and Jal isn’t really interested in knowing the chain-smoking, pot-inhaling boy.

“I like the cut,” Sonia says, and Jal beams. “The colour of the skirt is really nice. And what you did with the fabric, it’s impressive.”

Michael frowns. “I think the top is too drab. It just screams office worker. I mean look at her! She’s a pretty young thing, but it looks like she’s stuck in a rut!”

Okay, so Michael has issues. Noted. Jal grits her teeth and nods.

“I think I can see what you were going for,” Heidi finally says. “But I don’t think you managed to successfully achieve it. Close, but not fully.”

“Close enough,” Sonia murmurs.

Well Heidi and Michael can hate her creation for all they want, but at least Jal’s pretty sure she’s safe. Jonathan’s one was absolutely disastrous, no one actually knew what it was supposed to be, including Jonathan himself. The model looked shrunken and confused in a huge brown and grey whirl of fabric, with hints of sparkle. When it went down the runway, Tony literally muttered ‘what the fuck?’ and Michelle’s jaw dropped. Well, everyone was surprised, and not in a good way.

  
As expected, Jonathan is sent off, and no one really misses him. The boy was, after all, a trash talking maniac that even got on Cassie’s nerves, and even a horde of cockroaches dancing in a circle singing Lady Gaga couldn’t annoy Cassie.

There’s a knock on the door and Michelle opens it. Jonathan’s standing there, luggage behind him. 

“Just wanted to say goodbye,” he grins smarmily. Michelle smiles, but she knows it’s strained. 

“Well, goodbye.” Was it too rude to slam the door in his face?

“Listen,” he’s leaning on the doorway now – oh god, no. “I was thinking, you know, after this whole thing, once you get eliminated,”

Michelle’s eyebrows rise faster than steam in a sauna. Seriously?

“I was thinking we could get together.” Jonathan’s really confident, and all Michelle wants to do is to stuff a pair of fabric scissors up his ass. She’s thinking of a way to reply him when someone clears his throat.

“I think not, man,” Tony appears behind Jonathan, blue eyes narrowed. “She’s with me.”

Jonathan snorts. “Yeah, sure man-”

“I am.” she interrupts him, glad for this opportunity, glad that Tony came along and saved her. “I’m with him.”

Jonathan stares at her for the longest time, until she starts feeling uncomfortable. “What? You’ve never seen a person’s girlfriend before?”

Tony chuckles and squeezes past Jonathan to get to her. He puts his hand around her waist, and she leans towards him. “I think you should leave.” Tony sounds friendly, but Michelle can hear the coldness hidden behind the warmth. 

Jonathan blinks. “Yeah, yeah, nice…. Nice meeting you.”

When he’s gone, Michelle wants to laugh, but she figures it’s not really nice. She bites her lip, trying to hold back her giggles. Tony suddenly shakes with silent laughter, and chuckles soon become giggles and snorts and evolve into full-fledged laugher. 

“Oh gosh,” Tony chokes out. “That was… That was.”

Michelle can understand. She can’t believe he had the nerve to say ‘once you get eliminated’. It’s like, the worst pickup line she’s ever heard.

Tony’s arm tightens around her waist. “So,” he smiles. “I’m Tony. And I think you’re hot.”

A girl could do with some fun in New York. “I’m Michelle. And I think you’re hot too.”

 **EPISODE 2: CIRCUS ACT**

“Since you are the winner of the previous challenge, you get to pick first.”

Effy crossed her fingers.  _Please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me, please don’t let it be me-_

“Jasmin!” Cassie clapped. Jasmin flashed her bright smile and walked to the designer, but Effy – and probably all the other models – knew that she was dying a little inside.

The models were all housed in one large apartment, and word gets around fast. In the past weeks, Effy has learnt that her brother feels up Hannah – and she will smack the living shit out of him when she can – during fittings, Cassie is a little delusional and Kayla was freaked out when she worked with her for the first assignment, and Sid is a quiet, mousy boy but respectful of personal space. She knows that Jal is nitpicky when it comes to details, Anais was gushing over the pleats of her skirt. Effy thought that skirt was ridiculously pretty too. Karen tell her that Chris is like a genius, the boy draws ten lines and three circles, which no one can understand, and then he produces one of the nicest outfits ever. Effy thought that Chris should have won the last round. His canary yellow dress was a traffic stopper, hands down. And Karen really pulled off the 60s feel with her wavy hair and soft makeup.

Anwar picks Kayla, and Effy tries to remember what he’s like. Was he the crazy pot smoking one or the live-as-we-go one?

Then of course, there’s Maxxie.

Maxxie, who caught her eye since the first time the models met the designers. She knows Tony’s coughing and spluttering and clearing his throat twenty times more often than usual, but screw it. She’s not going to let her brother get in the way of this. Maxxie, whom Olga says is the perfect Southern gentleman, all good looks and charm. She wants to be Maxxie’s model so badly she really needs to get a cigarette to calm herself down.

Finally, finally, it’s Maxxie’s turn and he smiles – Effy wants to wake up to that smile. 

“Effy.”

Tony’s three seconds away from being a mother tiger but Effy can be a real mean killer whale when she wants to, and Tony knows it. Which is probably why Maxxie is still alive. She walks up to Maxxie, smiling.

“Hey partner,” he drawls, and Effy’s blown away, like a heroine in a romance novel.

Effy sits next to him, grinning. “Hey yourself.”

 **EPISODE 3: CHEAP N’ CHIC**

Today is a no good, very bad, horrible day. Chris can feel it in his blood. He’s not motivated at all.

So yeah, he won the second challenge, which means immunity for this round, but it also means that he has to up his game this time, not go all the way down the drain. 

He decides to go around for inspiration.

The latest challenge is insane. They’ve got $20 to use, and Chris found the sweetest reddish brown fabric at Mood, together with some gold furnishings. He’s got his stuff all laid out, but he’s just not inspired.

“Don’t you have things to do?” Tony asks as he tears his purple polyester with his bare hands. “The deadline’s tomorrow, man.”

Chris sighs. “I know, but I’m just not inspired. At all.”

Michelle wanders over, stealing some pins from Tony’s pincushion. “You’re not done, are you Chris?”

“He’s uninspired.” Tony tells her.

“Well uninspired or not, you gotta work, Chris,” Michelle pats his hand and goes back to her station.

Chris follows the sway of her ass, and gets knocked on the head with Tony’s ruler.

“Go find your own, stop looking at mine,” Tony grins, feral.

“I gotta admit,” Chris whistles. “That is one fine package.”

“And you’re a manwhore.”

“You break my heart, Ton,” Chris puts a hand over his chest, feigning pain and sadness. “You keep on breaking my heart.”

Tony laughs. “Go and do your thing, man. You’re gonna get trashed by Michael if you don’t.”

  
“Cassie!” Tim says as he comes over. 

“Hey Tim!”

“Talk to me.”

Cassie beams. “I’m doing a dress, like a cocktail dress, so I’m gonna do a little bubble skirt here, see? And a corset top.”

“Fascinating,” Tim says. “Why a corset top?”

“It’s like harsh versus soft. The bubble skirt is all floaty and happy, but the corset top is fierce and leather-”

Tim’s eyebrows go past his hairline. “Leather?”

She nods. “Leather. This black PVC I found, it looks a lot like the real thing.”

Tim strokes the fabric as if soothing it. That’s why Cassie likes Tim best, he appreciates the fabric, not like Heidi and Michael and Sonia who just criticize and comment on color and cut and don’t see the effort the threads make to hold up the dress. “I don’t know if it’ll work, Cassie,” Tim finally admits.

Cassie smiles. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it work.”

“That’s right. Make it work. Thank you, Cassie.”

“Thanks Tim.”

  
Maxxie wins round three and for some stupid reason Sid is proud of him. It’s so dumb, but Sid’s happy that Maxxie won. It means he’s still be around for two more rounds, and Sid never wants to see the bed next to his empty.

“Poor Becky,” Maxxie says as he watches ‘America’s got Talent’ on the Plasma TV in their apartment. “Heidi wasn’t very nice.”

“None of them are,” Anwar mutters. “They only know how to criticize and slam, but honestly I’ve never found Michael Kors’ clothes very appealing.”

Cain snorts mid-weed. “Agreed.”

“It’s just,” Maxxie looks worried, and it look adorable on him. Sid wants to kiss it off, make him smile. “How can you say things like ‘it’s a complete disaster, I don’t even know why we picked you in the first place?’”

Tony wanders in, beer bottle in hand. “Well they’re to blame too. I mean if they didn’t pick her in the first place, it wouldn’t have happened.”

“They shouldn’t have picked Jonathan, that’s what they shouldn’t have picked,” Howard retorts.

Everyone laughs, remembering the first and last creation Jonathan put on the runway.

“Man, what was that even supposed to be?” Cain laughed. 

“A mix between whale blubber and sewage, I think,” Chris says seriously, and Shane hoots.

Maxxie throws a pillow at Chris, but he’s smiling. “Fucking bitch.”

“Says you who threw the pillow at me!”

Sid wonders what tomorrow’s assignment would be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted to LJ - 9 Dec 2009. Get to know the characters [here](http://tipah.livejournal.com/228828.html#cutid1).

**EPISODE 4: YOU ARE WHAT YOU WEAR**

It’s the best and worst assignment he’s been on. 

‘Use only what you are wearing.’ 

For one, Sid doesn’t really want to remove his hoodie and show off his pasty arms. He definitely doesn’t want to take off his beanie and let the world see limp hair. He’s not keen on walking around pant less and expose his knobby knees.

But it’s the best assignment because Maxxie’s shirtless, humming as he sketches his design and pulls his white shirt over the mannequin. Sid can see the muscles flexing from over here, and it is a glorious sight.

“Check it out,” Arjana tells Sabrina behind him. “Boyfriend’s been working out.”

Sabrina giggles. “Gosh, he’s perfect. He’s a sweetheart and he’s so good-looking.”

Sid is pretty sure lending you chalk to mark out your fabric doesn’t make a person a sweetheart, but they’re girls, and that is Maxxie.

“Wanna bet is ass looks fantastic? Like chiseled.”

“Perky.”

“10 bucks.”

Sid tries hard to ignore the conversation of Maxxie’s ass and his growing hard-on because it’s not easy to sketch when all he can think of is Maxxie in bed, Maxxie’s muscles when they flex and Maxxie’s smile – oh dear god.

Maxxie just took off his jeans.

“Are you strip dancing?” Sid hears Chris laughing, and Maxxie gives him the finger, grinning. 

“You’re just jealous you can’t take off your clothes and look as hot as me, Chris.”

“It’s perky,” Sabrina says in urgent tones. “You owe me 10 bucks.”

Sid makes a strangled noise.

  
Tim Gunn knows the assignment said only what you wear, but he wasn’t expecting nudity of any sort.

“Maxxie,” he says as calmly as he can. “Maxxie, there are robes.”

Maxxie looks up, blue eyes sparkling. “They kinda hinder my movement, Tim. You know what they say - you gotta be comfortable to be creative.”

Tim has never heard of that quote before. He also hopes Maxxie’s talking about hand movement and not any other… movements. “Well you can’t be wandering around in the nude, Maxxie.”

Maxxie looks confused. “I’m wearing my underwear, Tim.”

If you could call it underwear, sure. This was more like shrunken Speedos and Tim could see everything. If this is a distraction tactic, it’s working. All the girls – excluding Cassie, who is more interested in the three specks of dirt on her table – and some of the boys are ogling at him blatantly.

Tim grabs a robe and tosses it to Maxxie. “Just wear it for the cameras, we don’t want to be sued for pornography on the Lifetime network.”

  
Jal thinks that Maxxie and Effy have met before. There’s no other way that they’d get along so well. 

Effy and Tony probably had an abusive relationship, considering that Tony’s been growling at his poor model as if she’s murdered his mom ever since Effy and Maxxie started laughing and working. And Effy’s been glancing wearily at Tony pretty often too. Jal should warn Michelle about her new boyfriend’s abusive tendencies.

“Ta-dah!” Chris shouts to her right, and she almost pokes Anais’ left breast with a pin. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

Karen laughs like she’s having the time of her life. “It’s gorgeous, Chris. You’ll win this. I know you will.”

Jal rolls her eyes. “Please, the boy can’t even count to 10 properly when he’s high.”

Anais laughs softly. “You’re doing just fine, Jal. Keep it up and you’ll win the round.”

Sometimes, when Jal concentrates hard enough when she’s doing something, she ends up focusing on one or two voices in the crowd. It’s a weird trait, and she was once convinced that she was born to be a secret agent thanks to this ability, but sometimes it works good.

“So I’ll be walking down the runway in your clothes.” That’s Effy.

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“A little too fast into the relationship, don’t you think?”

“Baby,” Maxxie’s drawl was out full force, and Jal’s body tingles. “I’ll still respect you in the mornin’.”

“I’m sure you will.” Effy’s all sensual heat, and Jal has to stop listening to this conversation five minutes ago.

  
After three rounds of ‘African-inspired’ wear, Arjana’s kicked out. Tony thinks it’s unfair – Arjana wore a tribal print dress for this round, she couldn’t possibly dye it in a different hue without making it look five kinds of hideous. 

But it also means that he’s still in, and he’s still keeping a lookout for Effy.

Sometimes during model fittings, Tony wants to go up to Maxxie and tell him that hey man, this is my little sister so back off with the Southern charm that will get you laid already, but that’s not professional, so he doesn’t. See, he can be nice.

“Stop thinking,” Michelle grumbles next to him as she huddles closer. “I can hear you.”

Tony smiles and kisses her head. “Sorry, I’ll think softer next time.”

“Yo yo yo!” Cain barges into the living room dressed in hip hop gear, and all Tony wants to do is laugh until he dies. 

“Uh, hey man. Yo,” he says, sitting upright. Michelle’s too stunned to do anything but stare. “Is it mini-Halloween or something?”

Cain gives him the finger. “We’re going to the ‘hood!”

“Cain,” Michelle sounds at the verge of losing her breath. “You don’t have to dress like a hip hop pimp to go to the ‘hood.”

“I know,” Cain swirls his huge gold chain, giving what he thinks is a sexy look. “But girl, we gotta go authentic man. Authentic!”

“Yeah!” Tony agrees automatically. “Authentic.” 

“Cain!” Chris screams – literally. Screams – from the main door. “The lovemaking bitches coming or what?”

“He’s high, isn’t he?” Michelle asks.

“I’m persuading them, dawg!”

Tony shrugs. “That’s his normal state.”

“Come on man!” Cain pleads. “It’s gonna be fun.”

“Who’s going?”

Cain shrugs. “Chris my man, Maxxie, Sid the squeaker, Anwar, Jal, Cassie and a few models.”

Effy might be going. If Effy’s going, Tony’s going. “Christina?”

“I think so yeah. And Anais and Effy.”

Tony smiles. “We’re going.”

  
Oh you have got to be kidding. Tonight was supposed to be relaxing and happy and flirting with Maxxie, but no, Tony had to come too. Effy has never despised her older brother so much in her entire life. She’s never met such an effective cock-block.

“Ton!” She hisses once she’s dragged him away from the crowd. “You said you’d give me space.”

“And I am, aren’t I?”

“You look like you’re going to turn Maxxie into crushed lizard.”

Tony huffs. “He deserves to be crushed lizard.”

“Tony!”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I can’t help hating every guy you go out with. It’s a big brother thing.”

Effy snorts. No, it’s a Tony Stonem thing. “Jasmin’s big brother is alright with the boys she goes out with.”

“Well maybe he’s gay,” Tony says absently. “It’ll explain a lot.”

“Look, you stay away from Maxxie and stop staring at him as if he’s going to rape me, and I’ll stay away from Michelle and not tell about the time when you wore mom’s lacy red underwear to school because you thought it felt good.”

Tony smirks. “She’d probably find it a turn on.”

But Effy has known Tony all her life, and has more than enough ammunition to get her point across. “And that you like stealing my thongs because you like things getting stuck in your ass crack.”

Tony pales immediately. “Alright, deal.”

 **EPISODE 5: DREAM A LITTLE DREAM AGAIN**

“These are your models.”

Teenagers and their mom’s wedding gowns. The writers have obviously lost their minds. This cannot possibly end good, Michelle knows that. And not only did she get the one with the least fabric to work with, the crazy girl wants a Lady Gaga looking creation and nothing less. Michelle’s tried swerving the topic, explaining, pleading, demanding, but it seems that no can do. A Lady Gaga dress or nothing. 

No way is Michelle going to create a scrotum-looking dress.

She looks enviously at Chris’ long lace train – he was the winner for the previous round, so it meant he could pick the first dress. As if the world couldn’t get any bleaker, the dress is 100 percent polyester, meaning she can’t dye it like what Howard’s doing.

“Hello, designers.”

Tim. Oh thank god. Tim can always save the day. Michelle hides in polyster and wishes to hibernate forever.

“Michelle. This isn’t really working.”

“No,” she moans. “It’s not.”

Tim looks concerned. “Alright, well we’ll figure this out. Talk to me.”

“I don’t know what to do Tim! There’s so little cloth, and it’s polyester.”

“You can’t dye it.”

Yes, Tim understands her pain. “Exactly. And the woman, she’s insane! She wants this Lady Gaga get up.”

“Well we’re not dressing to literally kill,” Tim deadpans. “I don’t think the metallic chest is working.”

Michelle looks at it closely. He’s right, it kind of looks like space-age crabs are emerging from the mannequin’s breasts. She takes it off immediately. “You think it’ll look better as a sash?”

“Much better than what it was. What other material do you have?”

She looks around at her work area – there’s virtually nothing aside from the metallic cloth and some blue tulle. “Oh god, Tim, I’m going to lose this round.”

Tim looks like he’s going to bolt. “Of course not, you’ll do just fine. I know you can.”

“I’m so screwed,” Michelle’s at the verge of tears, and this is so embarrassing, how can she say she’s a Marine’s daughter and cry because she doesn’t want to do a Lady Gaga dress? She’ll be laughed at forever. 

Thankfully, Tim knows what she’s going through and gives her a hug. She instantly feels better. “You can do it, Michelle. Make it work. Sophistication.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“Thank you Michelle.”

“Thanks, Tim.”

  
Anwar waves at Kathleen, his teenage client. “Hey Kathleen.”

“Anwar,” she smiles and gives him a hug. “How’s my new dress looking like?”

When Kathleen first came in with a Barbie doll wedding gown complete with puffy sleeves that were the size of watermelons, Anwar almost choked on his saliva. Maybe Kathleen’s mother was a fashion victim, but the girl herself certainly wasn’t. She’s also got a good head on her shoulders, and favours the modern, but somehow still feminine look, and it’s pretty much what Anwar does.

“Here we go…”

Kathleen gasps. “You dyed the fabric!”

Anwar smiles. “Yeah, I did.” It took him hours and completely dirty hands, but the final colour was completely worth it.

“It’s gorgeous,” Kathleen gushes. “And you made sure the lace worked!”

“You like it?”

“Anwar, I love it. Oh gosh you totally transformed it from that fugly thing! I want to wear it now.”

Anwar grins. “Let’s try it on, and we can see what we need to adjust.”

Turns out that things are going pretty good. Kathleen wants a slightly shorter hemline and a slightly tighter waist. Yeah, he can do that. Otherwise, she absolutely adores what he’s done for her, and he figures this is why he does fashion design – that sense of satisfaction when the client loves what you produce.

  
Howard’s tie-dye experiment wasn’t well loved by the judges, and he was sent packing. Michelle’s dress turned out to be the second most loved outfit – she firmly put her foot down when it came to Lady Gaga and her client liked the dress enough to tell people that she’d wear it out to a club. Anwar won the round, thanks to the colour and the cut. 

“I’m never doing dresses for teenage girls,” Chris grumbles as he pours milk into his cereal bowl. “Fucking never.”

Tony grins between bites of toast. “You’re just upset Heidi said your outfit reminded her of Oktoberfest.”

“Well I’m sorry if you miss your country,” Chris slams the fridge shut. That comment irked him so much he couldn’t even smoke pot right last night. “Freaking bitch.”

Maxxie wandered into the kitchen, sweatpants hanging on his hips, rubbing his eyes. “What’s with the bitching at ass o’clock man?”

“It’s 10 in the morning, cowboy,” Cain announces from his perch on the kitchen counter. “It’s a pretty regular time for humans to be awake.”

Maxxie gives him the finger as he rummages the fridge for food. Because he feels like it, Chris smacks his ass.

“Ow!” Maxxie yells, glaring. “What the fuck was that for?”

Chris shrugs. “Felt like it. Your ass was just, you know. There.”

There’s a strained wheeze from the kitchen entrance, and Chris swirls around to see Sid, eyes wide.

Sid’s been weird from day one when Chris first met him in their room. He’s always clothed from top to toe, as if he has some weird skin disease or something, and Chris thinks he has a thing for Maxxie. The boy’s always sneaking glances, and everyone knows that Maxxie’s probably, most likely banging his model. 

Of course, Chris doesn’t judge people because of that. Heck, he’s an equal opportunity man himself.

“Morning Squeaker!” he grins, cereal bowl in hand. “Hungry?”

Sid rubs his head, as if nursing an invisible wound. “I… yeah.”

“Well help yourself. There’s cereal, toast, and if you’re as sissy as Cain-”

“Fucker!”

“You can have fruit as your morning snack.”

“I’ll stick with toast, thanks.” Sid mutters, grabbing a slice from the oven toaster. 

Cain looks around. “Is Anwar awake?”

Chris shrugs. For all they know, Anwar might be practicing meditation in his room. He’s so anti-drugs, anti-pot and anti-weed that it frightens Chris sometimes. A man has got to smoke something once in a while, or he will snap.

Maxxie gulps down his coffee. “I’ll go check on him.”

Chris notes that Sid follows the sway of Maxxie’s ass as it leaves the room, and while yes, Maxxie does have one hell of a perky ass, it’s Maxxie. It’s like checking out that cowboy from Toy Story; it’s only allowed if you’re Little Bo Peep. The faster Sid gets that in his head, the less the heartbreak will be.

“Hey Sid,” he says, and Sid looks at him, weary. “Where are you from? I never got to ask.”

“Uh,” Sid says. “New Jersey.”

“Fucker! You just needed to drive up!”

 **EPISODE 6: WHAT SHE ASKS, SHE GETS**

The sixth assignment is the assignment Cassie thinks can actually be simple and less stressful. Create what your model asks you to create. That’s easy, considering that models know how to look good right?

Wrong.

Outside the runway, Jasmin has the world’s weirdest taste known to mankind. She’s like part-clown, part Christian Dior-reject. She likes taping her nipples (no, not with nipple stickers, but with real hardcore tape). She likes spots and stripes and wild colours. She likes the ruffled collar. She aspires to be Ronald McDonald.  
Okay, maybe not Ronald McDonald, but you get the idea. Cassie does whimsical, sure, but this veers straight into madness.

“So, I want harem pants,” Jasmin declares, and Cassie rubs her temple, trying to understand the concept of harem pants under a skin-tight dress. “They have to be glittery to stand out. Preferably pink.”

Cassie stares at her model. “Jasmin, pink glittery harem pants?”

Jasmin raises a perfectly plucked eyebrow. “I like it, you got a problem with that?”

“Uh, no. Please, continue.”

“The skintight dress has got to be tulle and chiffon.”

What?

“It’ll be a little see through, you know, peek-a-boo, so you can see the taped nipples.”

“You really wanna tape your nipples?”

Jasmin looks at her funny. “I’m not gonna expose myself on the runway.”

“We could just use opaque fabric,” Cassie says helplessly.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

  
“Jasmin’s trying her best to get Cassie out of the competition,” Effy says.

Maxxie frowns, looking up from his sketch. “But wouldn’t that mean she’s probably have to go, too?”

Effy shrugs. “She’s kinda done with the crazy stuff Cassie puts on her. She just wants out. And also because she thinks there are people who deserve to win more than Cassie, but the judges always like what she does.”  
Maxxie thinks about what Effy says, and he figures it’s pretty true. While there have been negative comments on Cassie’s works, they’ve never been particularly brutal. More often than not, the judges are okay with what she produces. 

“So what have you got for me?” Effy asks shyly, and Maxxie passes her his sketch.

“It’s nothing much. I have no idea what you want, since you don’t really know what you want, and hell, you look good in pretty much everything I put you in.”

Effy nods, seemingly satisfied with what she’s seen. “Make me a nice dress. Sketch a little more, I’ll give you some input.”

Fifteen minutes later, Maxxie is feeling restless. All his sketches are not turning out right. He puts his pencil down, frowning.

“I just can’t seem to get what I want,” he shakes his leg, a nervous tick. “Shoot, I’m uninspired.”

“Hey,” Effy says firmly. “You’re gonna make me a nice dress.”

“Effy,” he feels panic slowly creep in from his spine. He’s never had designer’s block, ever. “Effy, I don’t-”

“I’m going to go outside now,” Effy says, pushing herself off the table. “You’re going out too. I’m going to blow you, and you’re gonna make me a nice dress.”

Sometimes Maxxie needs a little motivation to get inspired. This is one of those times.

 **IN CONCLUSION: TIM GUNN**

The contestants always think that Tim Gunn only knows about their designs and their work. But that’s not true. Tim also knows about them. When they say that Tim Gunn is all-knowing, he is truly all-knowing.

He knows that Tony and Michelle are… well, these days they say ‘getting it on’, he knows that Sid’s got a ridiculous crush on Maxxie, he knows that Cassie is constantly in her own world – and why is she getting praises for some of the horrendous things she creates? He’s going to have a nice long chat with Heidi soon. 

He knows that Jal and Anwar are so devoted to winning, he knows that Chris smokes pot before, during and after work sessions, he knows that Effy blew Maxxie at the staircase a day ago before they had acrobatic sex and Tim genuinely hopes for all parties involved – that includes Tony. Yes, he also knows that Tony and Effy are siblings – there were condoms. 

Half the things these kids do are probably illegal or violating contract details, but Tim knows that they’ve got to live a little. He’ll slaughter things if a sewing book is found, but having sex with other contestants… he’ll close both eyes and ‘suggest’ to the crew to do so too. 

He walks into the workroom, which is a place of mass hysteria and frenzy. 

Cassie trips on a yellow train, and is Jasmin wearing shiny pink harem pants? Did Tim not say that was not working? Jal’s got at least twenty pins in her mouth, and Tim fears what will happen if someone offends her. Chris, slightly stoned, stumbles into his table when reaching for his scissors. Anwar’s wrapping Kayla like a Christmas present. Tony’s arguing with Michelle over missing thread as their models try to stuff themselves into their designers’ creations. Sid’s at the sewing machine, fingers moving at the speed of light. Maxxie’s adjusting the zipper of Effy’s dress, and as he walks away to get something, she grabs his hand, entwining their fingers. Maxxie smiles and gives her fingers a quick kiss before running off. 

Yes, it’s just another day at Project Runway. 

“Designers! You have thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to get things done, and then we’re heading to the Runway.”


End file.
